Meld
by Casteline
Summary: Tag to My Bloody Valentine. Dean wonders about his soul. Dean/Cas.


This is weird. I like some parts of it, but I'm not really impressed with the last half.

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**Meld**

Dean steps out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but his boxers and the towel he's running through his hair.

He threw the towel onto his bed and glanced instinctively to the bed next to his. The empty bed that would have housed Sam, or at the very least, his belongings, had he not decided to take a break from the hunting for a few weeks.

Dean hated it, hated being separated from Sam again. He hates hunting on his own, no backup.

Which wasn't entirely true, because Cas had hardly left his side when he found out that Dean was on his own again.

And speaking of, the angel had just appeared in the room, a bag of Chinese takeout in hand.

"Do you require sustenance?" he asked, holding the bag out.

"Not hungry right now," Dean said, taking the bag and setting it down. "Thanks though," he added as he pulled on a pair of jeans.

"You are distracted," Cas stated. "You hardly eat and you are acting strangely."

Dean shrugged. He turned to grab his shirt, but found that Cas was standing directly in his way, barely six inches from his face.

"We've talked about this Cas, personal space."

But he didn't budge.

"You have a soul Dean," he said.

"What?" Dean replied after a moment.

"You believe your soul was left behind in hell."

"I don't like you reading my mind," Dean said, turning away, only to find the angel standing in front of him once more.

"I would never enter your mind without your permission Dean."

Dean gives him a skeptic look.

"I was in the diner when Famine spoke with you. I heard what he said."

"I didn't believe a word of it," Dean tried to convince him, trying to escape his prying eyes again, with no success.

"Then what is it that bothers you so?" Cas asked, his head tilted slightly.

Dean didn't answer.

"You have a soul," Castiel said again. He took his hand and pressed it to the exposed handprint on his shoulder, his mark.

Dean felt a sudden burning in his shoulder. He gasped. Cold hands burning into his skin. The most intensely pleasant feeling he's ever had.

"I feel it. I felt it when I dragged you out, and I feel it now. You have a soul."

"Then why do I feel like I don't exist," he asked, reluctantly pulling away from Castiel's grip. "Why didn't Famine's power work on me?"

"Perhaps it is as you said, the things that normal people desire are the things you have never been denied. Sustenance, fornication, alcohol."

But not love. Dean had never chased after the love of another. He'd never cared.

"Or maybe I'm not fully human!"

"You believe that because you do not have desires, you are not human?"

Dean stared at the ground.

"That's just it," he said before looking back up. "I do have desires. The fact that I wasn't forced into fulfilling them makes me think I'm not human."

"You say you do not hunger for anything," Cas said, stepping closer to him. "Then you say you do. Which is it Dean?"

Dean didn't answer. He made to back away, but found that the wall was in his way.

Cas placed his hand back on Dean's shoulder, causing the human to gasp again as a tingling sensation traveled throughout his body, causing his eyes to unfocus for a moment.

"Perhaps it is not that you aren't human, but that you believe your desire to so far beyond your reach, that you thought it unattainable."

"Are you reading my mind?" Dean asked, staring into Cas' eyes. "I feel like you're reading my mind."

"Only if you permit."

They stare into each others eyes for several moment, Dean unable to move from the corner he'd been backed into.

"Yes," he said so quietly he wasn't sure Cas heard it.

But then he can feel him in his mind and the presence against his arm is a hundred times more vivid. He can feel the angel's soul and he can feel his own. His soul was there, and it was real.

Castiel was in his mind. He'd expected it to be awkward and uncomfortable. He'd expected to feel violated and insecure about the secrets he's kept locked away inside.

Instead he feels completed. Like something had been missing before, and now it had returned to it's rightful place.

Through all the images flowing through his mind, he can hardly see Castiel and the room around them, but somehow he manages to reach his hands out and grasp Cas' neck to pull him closer.

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Let me know what you think.


End file.
